


Tell Me You Do

by Wolfchesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Eventual Smut, Feelings, Frottage, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Slow Build, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-03 08:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5284346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfchesters/pseuds/Wolfchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam confesses his love for Dean, albeit in an unconventional way, but it isn't received in the way that Sam had hoped. Time apart helps both brothers realize what is important and how they both feel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean’s cock was painfully hard. There was sweat beading on his forehead from the heat radiating in through the window and the ceiling fan circulating above him was doing nothing but redistributing the hot stale air around the stifling motel room.

Dean was aching to touch himself but he refused to let himself. There was no way he would stoop that low; to masturbate to the sounds of his little brother jerking himself off (quite loudly) in the bathroom next to him. It was like Sam wasn’t even trying to stay quiet, as if he was making sure Dean could hear his porn-worthy moans and needy whines through the wall.

Dean wouldn’t put it past his brother to tease him like this. Actually, now that he thought about it, Dean realised just how much Sam had been tormenting over the last few weeks. It was just over a week ago that Sam had walked out of the bathroom of a motel room in Boston totally naked; his skin glistening obscenely in the low light. He had walked over to his bed, pulled clothes out of his duffle and started to dress himself as if Dean weren’t even there. It wasn’t until Dean cleared his throat that Sam paused in the middle of pulling his boxers over his hips and looked up.

“Yes?” Sam had said innocently, as though strutting around naked in front of your brother was a normal thing to do.

“You right there, Sammy?” Dean replied, casually placing a pillow on his lap to conceal his growing erection, and sitting up.

“Yep.”

That wasn’t the only rare occurrence; a few days after that and a few states over, Dean stumbled in through the door at some ungodly hour expecting to find Sam asleep or sitting up in bed doing research. He had not expected to see Sam laying on his bed, feet over the edge and propped up on his elbows, receiving a blowjob from a brunette girl on her knees. As soon as Dean staggered over the threshold, Sam had looked over at him with his lips slightly parted and seductive look in his eye.

Dean had halted in the doorway, staring at the scene that had laid itself out so sweetly before him, with a dumbfounded look on his face that had nothing to do with thee copious amounts of Jim Beam he had consumed earlier that night.

The girl had lifted her head up to see who had entered the room but Sam simply placed his hand on top of her head and, didn’t force, but guided her back down onto his cock without taking his eyes off Dean who was still standing in the doorway.

Dean still didn’t know how long he had stood there, watching that girl bob up and down, sucking his brother off, but eventually he could no longer stand the pointed look that Sam was giving him and thought he had better get out there before he did anything stupid.

Dean considered doing that now, just leaving before Sam came out of the bathroom and saw him there, but he knew that it would be even hotter outside than it was in the motel room and he honestly could not be bothered to get up and walk to the door anyway so he resigned himself to staying where he was and simply ignoring Sam when he finally emerged.

Dean tried to occupy his mind somehow. First he picked up a magazine from the bedside table and attempted to read that while also trying to block out the groans issuing from the bathroom but for some reason (probably the persistent throbbing in his jeans) he didn’t find V8 engines as interesting as he usually did.

After a particularly loud and guttural moan (and an answering twitch from his cock) Dean concluded that Sam must have finally finished. He was proved right when Sam emerged from the bathroom with a towel slung low over his hips, revealing a small patch of curly black hairs, and a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

Dean pretended to be absorbed in his magazine, biding his time until he could talk to Sam while he was fully clothed. Even though Sam was taking an excruciatingly long time to find a pair of jeans in his bag, Dean stayed stoically silent, re-reading the same sentence about flat-plane crankshafts versus cross-plane crankshafts.

When Sam had finally pulled on a pair of jeans and was buttoning them with one hand while searching for a shirt with the other, Dean lowered his magazine and sat up. He waited until Sam had finished buttoning his shirt before clearing his throat and mentally preparing himself for the conversation he was about to participate in.

“Sam?”

Sam looked at Dean and smiled but did not say anything. Dean took this as a cue to continue with what he had already planned to say.

“Look, Sammy, we gotta talk about – uh…” Dean got momentarily by the small of Sam’s back which appeared as Sam sat on the end of his bed and bent down to tie the laces of his boots. Dean threw his magazine to the side and stood up, walked to the dresser across the room and leant against it, looking determinedly at a point just above Sam’s shoulder, willing himself not to lose his train of thought again.

Sam was resolutely silent and Dean had a funny feeling that Sam was enjoying his nervousness and general uneasiness about the subject. Dean swallowed and went for it.

“Sam I don’t know what your game is or what you’re trying to do but you gotta stop, okay? It’s like you are purposely trying to rile me up and I’m _over_ it. Prancing around, showing yourself off… Or something –” Dean broke off and chanced a glance down at Sam who was looking him dead in the eyes with a pleased smirk plastered on his face. This pissed Dean off.

“Sam, why are you smiling!?”

“Because it’s so easy to get under your skin.” Sam’s smirk widened and Dean spluttered, lost for words.

“Wha-? You –?”

Sam stood up and closed the distance between himself and Dean in two long strides. He placed his large hands on the dresser either side of Dean, caging him in, and looked into his eyes. “Don’t you like it?” he whispered, “I mean…” his gaze lowered and he looked pointedly at Dean’s obvious erection, “It sure looks like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Sam, _stop!”_ Dean shoved Sam hard in the chest and he staggered backwards a few paces, his calves hitting the bed. “This isn’t funny, man. You’re my brother, what the fuck are you playing at?”

Dean wasn’t pissed off anymore. He was annoyed more than anything, irritated that Sam had managed to get to him, had managed to make him doubt himself and question everything that he was so sure of. Sam _had_ gotten under his skin, he had raised so many questions that Dean was definitely not comfortable pondering the answers to.

Dean knew that he and Sam were different, he knew that the normal rules didn’t necessarily apply to them given their circumstances and how they were raised but that didn’t mean that he was allowed to act on the feelings he was so ashamed of having. He just couldn’t do that. Not to his brother, not to his father and not to himself.

Dean turned around and leant heavily on the dresser. He sighed, Sam’s continued gaze practically burning the back of his head.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice was not as confident as it had been before, it was small, almost timid, “I wasn’t trying to piss you off. I just thought if…” Dean heard Sam take a steadying breath, “I thought if I made it clear to you how I felt, then maybe…”

“I’d tell you I felt the same.” Dean finished the sentence for him.

“Yeah…”


	2. Chapter 2

“Sam, you weren’t exactly making it easy for me to realize what you were doing. I thought you just really liked your own dick.”

Sam gave a half-hearted chuckle and looked down at his feet. “Yeah, I was being a bit of a prat about it wasn’t I?”

“Ya think?”

Sam laughed again and looked up. Dean’s stomach dropped as he saw the sadness in Sam’s eyes. What was he supposed to do now? Should he just tell Sam he had feelings for him too and they could both be freaks together? Or does he put his foot down and crush the idea to save them both potential heart break and the possible downfall of their relationship?

It wasn’t an easy decision to make with Sam looking at him like that, hopeful and sad and a little bit embarrassed. If it wasn’t such a messed up situation, Dean might have thought it was cute. He hardly ever saw Sam vulnerable like this.

“Sammy, listen,” Dean said softly, taking a tentative step towards Sam. But before he could continue, Sam interrupted.

“I know what you’re going to say and its’ okay. I get it. Can we just pretend that these last few weeks never happened and move on?” Sam sank down onto the edge of the bed. Dean stepped forward and joined him.

“You don’t know what I was going to say, Sam.” Dean said with a small smile. Sam didn’t look up, he seemed to be very interested at a speck of dried blood on the toe of his boot. “Hey” Dean said softly, sneaking a forefinger under Sam’s chin and gently pulling so Sam would look at him. Dean felt his heart break a little at the sight of tears in Sam’s eyes, and in that moment, Dean knew exactly what he wanted, _needed_ to do.

Dean closed the distance between himself and Sam in one smooth motion, capturing Sam’s lips in a tender kiss. He felt Sam’s lips move hesitantly underneath his own, as if he were scared to put a foot wrong and have it all fall apart.

Dean didn’t deepen the kiss and he pulled away after a few seconds. Their lips detached with a barely audible _smack_ and Sam leant his forehead against his brother’s, breathing deeply.

“Sam?” Sam hummed in reply. “Sam this can’t happen. You know it can’t.”

“Why not?” Sam asked, pulling back from Dean as though Dean’s skin had burnt him.

“It just can’t, Sammy. It’s wrong and – Aw Sam don’t give me that look, you couldn’t have thought that I’d be –“

“What, Dean? That you’d be what?” Sam stood up and faced Dean, arms crossed across his chest. “If you thought it was so _wrong_ , then why did you kiss me, huh? I gave you an out, I told you to forget about it but you kissed me anyway. Why did you have to do that?”

Sam was almost in hysterics. Dean could see the tears welling up in his eyes again and he hated himself for being the one to put them there but Sam was being unreasonable. He was expecting too much.

“Sam,” Dean said, mirroring Sam and standing up, “It can’t happen Sam. I won’t do it, I’m sorry. It’s not right, you’re my brother. My little brother.”

“What, so now that there are feelings involved, you back out? You didn’t seem to have a problem before when I was – what did you call it? – Oh that’s right, prancing around with my cock out. Yeah that’s right, I _saw_ you Dean. You loved it, jerking yourself off when you thought I was sleeping, moaning my name when you –“

“ _STOP.”_

“What’s the matter Dean? Bringing up too many _feelings_ am I?”

Dean took a step closer to his little brother and even though Sam was taller, he couldn’t help but be intimidated by the look of unmasked rage on Dean’s face. “You have no _idea_ what you’re talking about.” Dean’s voice was barely more than a whisper but carried more anger than he had ever directed at Sam before.

Sam turned around, scooped up his open duffle off the floor and dumped it on his bed. He moved about the motel room, picking up his belongings and stuffing them into his bag. Dean stood rooted to the spot and watched Sam walk into, and back out of, the bathroom, depositing more stuff into his bag. Dean didn’t move again until Sam picked up his bag, slung it over his shoulder and began to walk towards the motel room door.

“You’re not leaving.” He said warningly, taking a step towards Sam who stopped in his tracks and turned around.

“Well I’m not staying here.” And in three more strides, Sam was out the door and had disappeared into the blinding sunlight.

All of a sudden, Dean was twenty-two again, watching his father and his little brother yell and scream at each from opposite ends of a room in some motel that Dean had long forgotten the name of.

Sam had his hand on the door-knob, and two large duffles slung over his shoulders. John was standing next to the bathroom door with his hands thrown above his head in exasperation. Dean could tell he was about to give up and let Sam walk out the door.

_Please Sam, don’t go._

_Dad don’t let him go._

But two minutes later, Dean and his father were sitting in silence in the motel room, the slamming of the door still ringing in their ears.


	3. Chapter 3

**_16 Months Later_ **

Sam had grown. He was several inches taller now and his hair was longer as well. It might have been lighter but it was hard to tell in the dim bar lights. He was definitely more muscular than the last time Dean saw him; his shoulders and arms had filled out nicely, making the cotton button down stretch in all the right places.

Dean watched Sam converse with a shorter man over the top of his whiskey. He hadn’t even realized that Sam was here until after his third drink. When he had looked around the room, taking in his surroundings, his heart had skipped a beat when his gaze fell upon his younger brother. He was sitting in a booth at the bar end of the room, half his face cast in shadows but Dean recognised him straight away. There was no doubt.

The man that Sam was with had blonde hair and a strong jaw line, he was broad shouldered and stocky; Dean couldn’t deny that he was handsome. He felt a sharp pang of jealousy deep in his gut but he drowned it with another gulp of whiskey. Sam’s loud bark of laughter flitted through the packed bar easily and Dean’s heart broke a little more when he heard it.

He had not heard that sound in so long.

Dean toyed with the idea of going over there and saying hello. It wasn’t a terrible idea but he was kind of scared about how Sam would react. Would he cry and embrace him? Would he break his nose and walk out? Would he just ignore him? That last thought made Dean’s insides quake with fear.

Ever since Sam walked out on him, Dean tried to convince himself that maybe Sam wasn’t ignoring him on purpose; maybe he lost Dean’s number or maybe Sam was out of the country and had no way of contacting Dean or maybe he’d been in an accident, got amnesia and forgotten everything.

Dean knew that all of that was extremely unlikely but he couldn’t bear the thought that Sam was perfectly okay with the idea of pretending that Dean didn’t exist.

Dean heard Sam laugh again from across the room and he saw the other man smile and move his hand across the table to hold Sam’s. Dean froze with his glass halfway to his lips.

_I’m not jealous. He’s my brother. I’m not jealous._

_Fuck this._

Dean downed the rest of his whiskey in one large gulp, slammed his glass down on the bar-top and stood up.

It took seven steps to reach Sam.

He didn’t look up straight away as Dean approached the table and Dean didn’t wait for him to, Dean simply pulled an empty chair away from the next table, pushed it in next to Sam and sat down. Dean crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Sam who stared back with an expression of mingled surprise and guilt.

“Hey man, can we help you?” The blonde-haired man asked, staring at Dean curiously. Dean didn’t answer him, he kept staring at Sam who looked as though he were lost for words. “Sammy, do you know this guy?”

_No fucking way._

“Sammy?” Dean asked angrily, sitting up straighter and directing his gaze towards the blonde man. He noticed at that moment the striking green of the man’s eyes.

“Look, I don’t know who you are but you gotta –” The man began,

“I’m his brother, who the fuck are you?”

The blonde looked incredulously at Sam, back to Dean, and then back at Sam. “This is Dean?” He asked.

How did this guy know his name? This eliminated the idea (hope) that Sam had only just met this guy. The fact that he knew his name meant that Sam had obviously spoken about him to this guy, and by the look on the guy’s face, quite a lot. What had Sam said about him? Had he told this guy how long it had been since they’d seen each other? Perhaps why they hadn’t seen each other?

“Yeah, this is Dean.” Sam said, looking down at the table. His voice was different: deeper and yet somehow weaker, smaller. Perhaps it was just the situation…

“So,” Dean said slowly, plastering on obviously fake grin, placing both elbows on the table and holding his head in his hands like a very curious child. “How’ve ya been, Sam?”

“Dean, don’t be a dick,” Sam said in a small voice, still looking intently at the table. He seemed to have become very interested in the ring of condensation that his beer had left on the wood.

“Ha! That’s rich coming from you. Where the fuck have you been Sam!?” Dean had lost all sense of sarcasm now. He wanted answers. “What have you been doing, why didn’t you call me?” Dean shot a look at the blonde, “and who the _fuck_ is this guy?”

“Um, I’m Felix.

“Yeah, I don’t actually care, mate. Piss off.” Dean moved closer to Sam, turning his back on Felix.

“ _Dean!”_ Sam had finally looked up from the table. “Don’t tell him to piss off. He’s not going anywhere.”

“What? He your boyfriend or something?”

“Yeah.”

It took seven steps to reach Sam.

It took nine to reach the door.

It took five for Dean to realise that Sam wasn’t following him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is the longest chapter that i have written ever. pls be kind x

 

There was a light dusting of snow on the pavement outside the bar and there was a sharp chill on the air that made Dean pull his jacket tighter around himself.

Painful memories gripped at Dean as he walked down the deserted street. Memories of Sam: Sam laughing, Sam sleeping soundly on the bed next to Dean, Sam’s soft lips against his own.

Dean wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t.

Nothing had changed since Sam walked out over a year ago. They were still brothers and it still wasn’t right. Sam was happy now. He had a boyfriend and he looked healthy and that was all that mattered. Dean wouldn’t let himself intrude on his brother’s new found joy, he wouldn’t let himself ruin things again by infecting Sam with his own conflicted feelings.

But no matter how hard Dean tried, he couldn’t rid himself of these thoughts. Sam’s kind face swum at the forefront of his mind, smiling gently, mocking him. These feelings nested themselves in his brain like some sort of disease, filling him with agonising loneliness.

Dean continued up the street until he reached a convenience store. It was empty except for the clerk behind the cash register. The fluorescent lights made Dean squint as he walked down the aisle towards the back of the store. He snatched a bottle of bourbon from a shelf and carried it to the counter, placing it on the Formica without looking at the clerk.

“Rough night?” asked the man as he scanned the bottle of bourbon and put it in a paper bag.

“Yeah you could say that.” Dean said emotionlessly, taking the bottle when the man handed to him.

“Take care of yourself, pal.” the man tucked the twenty dollar bill that Dean handed him into the till and went to hand over his change, but Dean refused.

“Nah, keep it.” and he walked out without saying another word.

* * *

  _Nine Months Ago_

 _Sam had no idea why he was here. This club was seedy and it smelt obscenely of sweat and sex, even the name made Sam cringe:_ The Backdoor _. It was so painfully not Sam’s scene but he took a deep breath, showed the security guard his driver’s license (ignoring the burly man’s knowing smirk) and walked through the open door. He tried not to make eye contact with the scantily clad men as he made his way to the bar. Even though he kept his head down, it was hard for Sam to ignore the obvious up-and-down looks he was prompting and the intentional way men kept brushing past him and grinning._

_Sam ordered a beer and sat down on the stool closest to the exit. The bright purple and blue LED lights were already giving him a headache and the evident smell of latex, and something that reminded him of scented urinal cakes, was making his stomach turn uneasily._

_Sam sipped his beer while determinedly ignoring the bartender’s glances. The music coming from the wall-mounted speakers was pounding in his ears; it was as if the thump of the bass was resonating straight from Sam’s veins. The music reminded him of Dean. Thinking of how much his brother would hate it, Sam started tapping his foot along to the beat and smiled knowingly to himself._

_“Hey, cutie.”_

_The voice had come from Sam’s left and he looked to see an attractive blond man leaning against the end of the bar with a grin on his face. Parts of his hair were plastered to his forehead from sweat and there were small beads forming on his bare upper lip. Sam resigned himself to thinking that he was out of breath from dancing and not from doing anything else more ill-mannered._

_“Hey, sorry, I’m not, uh, looking.” Sam said with an attempt at an apologetic smile._

_“Then what’s a_ respectable _fellow like you doing in a place like this?” The man was still smiling but he was noticeably disappointed that Sam wasn’t reciprocating his advance._

_“Not really sure,” Sam replied with a nervous laugh, taking another sip of his beer just to have something to do with his hands._

_The man pushed off the bar and walked around Sam to occupy the stool next to him. For a moment, Sam thought he was walking away and a miniature jolt of disappointment gripped at him which he pushed fretfully away._

_“Haven’t come out, huh?” The man asked._

_“I – What?”_

_The man leant his elbow on the bar and rested his head on his hand. A small, knowing smirk played on his lips before he replied. “I saw you come in, you walked over here avoiding everyone like they had the plague and you said yourself, you aren’t sure what you’re doing here. Either you came here on a dare or you haven’t come out of the closet and you’re scared of what might happen.”_

_Sam was surprised at the man’s perceptiveness and smiled in spite of himself. “Right and wrong,” Sam said, taking another swig of his beer and looking the man straight in the eye, mirroring his smirk._

_“Oh? And how’s that?”_

_“I don’t know if you’d say if I’m out of the closet. I haven’t got many people to tell. Just my brother really.”_

_“And he knows?”_

_“Yeah, he knows.” Sam’s smile dropped and he looked down at his fingers clamped around the neck of his beer._

_“Sore subject?” The man asked._

_Sam looked up and hummed his assent._

_“So what’s your name anyway?” The man asked, obviously eager to steer the conversation in a different direction._

_“Sam.”_

_“Felix,” said the man and he stuck out his hand. Sam shook it, his smile reappearing on his face. “You wanna get out here?” Felix asked, still holding onto Sam’s hand._

_“Ah…” Sam contemplated the offer. He wasn’t going to lie, he was pretty keen on getting out this place, it stank and even though he had barely moved, he was already perspiring though his shirt. ‘Getting out of here’ didn’t have to mean what Sam thought it meant. Maybe Felix, like Sam, was sick of the club and wanted some fresh air. Even if he did mean something else, would that be so bad? Maybe ‘getting out of here’ with Felix was what Sam needed in order to get Dean out of his head._

_“Sure.”_

* * *

 

Sam didn’t want to let Dean’s sudden presence rock him so much but he would be lying to himself if seeing his brother hadn’t unearthed some things that Sam had spent so much time burying. Sure, he felt guilty for leaving Dean the way he did, he had spent the better part of a year trying to be okay with it, but a small part of him was revelling in savage pleasure at the fact that Dean was so pissed off.

Sam hated himself for that.

He knew that what he did was unfair and totally uncalled for but after he walked the door of that motel room it was as though he suddenly had something to prove, it felt like Sam had to stay gone in order to show Dean and himself that he could stick to something and be independent. Dean’s (and his own) pain and anguish was an unfortunate by-product.

His dependency on Dean had always been unhealthy and Sam knew, as he watched Dean slam the door of the bar, that if he followed him into the cold winter air, everything Sam had been working on with Felix would be metaphorically flushed down the toilet.

Felix seemed to be able to read his mind. “Sammy, don’t. Please.”

Sam looked into Felix’s warm brown eyes and smiled. He couldn’t put Felix through the kind of pain that choosing Dean would cause. Sam stretched his hand across the table top and grasped his lover’s hand firmly in his own before he stood up and went to pay their tab.

Sam and Felix walked to the door, grabbed their coats and opened it, wincing as the frozen air bit at their faces. The couple walked, hand in hand, three blocks to the small one bedroom house that they had shared for two and a half months. Felix turned the key in the front door and rushed in to turn on the heater. Sam, meanwhile, headed straight for the bedroom where he shucked off his jacket and flannel and kicked off his boots.

When Felix had finally wandered in from the living room five minutes later, Sam was already in bed, cocooned in the comforter. Felix smiled appreciatively at his boyfriend, wondering how in the world he got this lucky, and headed into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

* * *

 

It was a few hours later that Sam stirred and opened his eyes. It wasn’t uncommon for Sam to wake in the middle of the night with Dean’s name dancing on his lips. Most nights that this happened, Sam was glad to have Felix’s warm body next to him but tonight something was different. Tonight Sam wished that Felix wasn’t there. He resented him for being there, for being the reason that Sam couldn’t go back to his brother. His love.

Sam sat up and swung his legs over the bed, looking over at the digital alarm clock on the bedside table; it was ten past three in the morning. He stood up and pulled his jeans on over his boxers as quietly as he could. He grabbed his flannel, jacket and boots from where he had left them on the floor and crept out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Sam pulled on his flannel and jacket over his t-shirt and bent down to pull on his boots. He crossed the hall into the small study and rummaged through the drawers until he found the phonebook. He only had to flick through a couple of pages until he found the first motel listed under the ‘A’ column: _Anvil and Sons Roadside Motel._ If Sam knew his brother at all, then he knew that he would find him there. Sam checked the address and saw that the motel was only a few blocks away so he walked to the front door, snatched his keys and phone off the small side table and walked into the early morning chill.

It took Sam eighteen minutes to reach the motel. He stopped in the middle of the gravel driveway that led to the parking lot. It was empty except for two cars; a rusty pickup truck and (Sam’s stomach flipped over) a black 1967 Chevrolet Impala. Sam walked over to it slowly. He ran his hand along the roof, staring in through the windows. There was a cooler in the back seat (no doubt full of melted ice and empty beer cans), several items of clothes strewn over the front seat (including one of Sam’s flannels that he must have left behind in his haste) and multiple empty boxes of ammunition.

Sam stepped back from the car and looked up at the building in front of him. It had two levels and he knew immediately where he would find Dean: on the second floor, in the room closest to the stairwell. Sam used to tease his brother about how predictable he was. He had a feeling he was about to be proved right. The only question now was if Sam had the guts to actually go and knock on the door.

After five whole minutes of an internal debate, pacing and staring blankly at the building in front of him, Sam finally started to stride towards the motel, his eyes set on the room in the top right hand corner of the structure.

He was halfway across the parking lot, he was at the foot of the stairs, he was on the second floor and then he was in front of what he assumed was Dean’s door. The red paint was peeling and the metal door knob was rusting where it met the wood. Sam raised his fist, wondering for what must be the hundredth time in the last ten minutes what the fuck he was doing there, and rapped loudly on the door three times.

Sam stood frozen, staring at the door and straining his ears in order to hear any movement inside the room. His stomach was in his throat and it was twisting and turning uncomfortably. What would he say to his brother? What would _Dean_ say?

After a whole minute, Dean contemplated going down to the front desk to ask the clerk what room Dean had booked but then he thought better of it. Dean was obviously the only tenant in the whole motel (assuming that the second car in the parking lot belonged to the person running the establishment) so there was no harm in checking out the room just to be sure. So Sam reached into an inside pocket of his jacket and extracted a set of lock picks and after a few seconds of fumbling about, Sam got the door unlocked.

When the door swung open, the smell hit Sam like a freight train. A strong odour of alcohol and sweat met his nose, mingled with what was unmistakeably vomit. After a quick scan of the room, Sam found the source: Dean was slumped, his back against the foot of one of the two beds, legs splayed in front of him and an empty bottle of bourbon laying on its side beside him. There was a large puddle of sick in between his legs and it had splattered on his shirt and jeans. The smell was revolting.

Sam rushed forward, kicking the door closed behind him, to check if Dean was still breathing. He placed two fingers on his brother’s throat and checked for a pulse. After a few seconds Sam felt the rhythmic beat of blood pumping through Dean’s body and he breathed out a great sigh of relief that he seemed to have been holding since he started picking the lock.

Dean smelt worse up close. There was slobber trickling down his chin, mingling with the vomit that was drying on his chest, his nose was running and the pungent smell of alcohol was stronger than ever before. Sam dashed to the bathroom, grabbed a clean towel and ran it under the tap. He went back to Dean and started to peel his t-shirt off. He pulled Dean’s arms out of the holes and carefully lifted the fabric over his head so as not to get any of the sickly fluid in his hair. Sam was warmed to see the amulet still hanging around Dean’s neck, resting over his heart.

Sam took the towel and began wiping Dean’s face, neck and chest where the vomit had soaked through his shirt and moistened his skin. After he was finished, Sam carded his fingers gently through Dean’s sand-coloured hair. It was soft and smooth and Sam smelt the slighted trace of the Dean he remembered.

Sam sponged Dean’s face once more before setting the towel down and standing up. That was the easy part over.

Sam stooped low, hooked his arms under brothers and heaved Dean up and onto the bed. His legs were still hanging over the edge but having him in this position would make it a lot easier to get Dean’s pants off. Sam bent down in front of his brother, carefully avoiding the puddle of sick, and began undoing Dean’s belt. He couldn’t help but feel like a bit of a creep doing it but Sam kept reminding himself that he had no ill intentions and that this was all for Dean’s own good. In an ideal world he would have just put Dean in the shower but he didn’t have nearly enough strength to do that. Maybe if Dean was conscious, but like this he was just dead weight.

Sam pulled Dean’s boots off, undid his button and fly and pulled his jeans down his thighs, over his knees and off his legs, discarding them on the floor. Dean was now laying on the bed in nothing but his underwear and socks. Sam couldn’t help but appreciate how beautiful he was. It was what he loved about sharing a motel room with Dean for so many years: the uninterrupted hours of simple appreciation of his brother’s beautiful form. His lean muscles, his broad shoulders and slender hips.

Sam eyed the bulge in the front of Dean’s briefs and all thoughts of Felix and the home that they had built together were swept away. He thought back to that moment so many months ago in the motel room, not unlike the one he was standing in now, when he and Dean had shared that earth-stopping kiss. After all this time Sam had not forgotten the feel of Dean’s soft lips, how Dean’s calloused hand had wrapped around his neck, the way Dean’s scent seemed to linger on him for hours after he had stormed out.

Sam picked up the empty bottle of bourbon, threw it in the trash can by the door and started pacing around the room, eyeing off the puddle of vomit every time he passed it, wondering how on earth he was going to get it out of the carpet. He could go down to the front desk in the morning and ask for a bucket and a mop, or he could just skip out and leave it for Dean to deal with but that probably wasn’t a good idea.

After a while Sam became aware of just how tired he was. He and Felix hadn’t got back from the bar until late and he had only managed a few hours of sleep before he had woken up again. He decided to try and grab a few extra hours of shut eye on the spare bed before Dean gained consciousness. He walked over to Dean and turned his brother’s head to the side for good measure before crossing the room again, sending a quick explanatory text to Felix and lying down on the lumpy mattress.

Sam drifted off to sleep in a matter of minutes, his last thoughts of Dean and how soft his lips had felt all those months ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would really love to hear some feedback about the way the story is headed and any changes/scenarios you would like to see happen. Thankyou for reading x


	5. Chapter 5

Dean was only half aware of what was going on, he floating in and out of consciousness. He could hear the sounds of traffic and birds flitting in through the open window but he didn’t dare open his eyes. He could see the dull red light through his eyelids and he knew that his already pounding head couldn’t take the assault of blinding sunlight. He turned his back to the window, determined to slip back into sweet nothingness, but that is when he heard the soft rusting of fabric on fabric: someone was stirring on the spare bed.

Dean’s eyes flew open and the hunter within him burst through the fog in his brain. His whole body tensed, waiting for something, anything. He heard the intruder move on the bed again and without waiting, Dean flipped over swung his legs out and leapt into a standing position facing the man on the bed.

It only took Dean a split second to recognise the mop of shaggy brown hair. But what the fuck was he doing here? And why the hell did this place smell like puke?

Dean walked slowly to where Sam lay on the bed until he was within arm’s reach, and jabbed him hard in the side with his index finger. Sam jerked awake and stared up at Dean.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked, and it was hard to keep the malice out of his voice. This was Sam after all, Sam, the brother who walked out and abandoned him just like so many other people in his life.

Sam sat up and rubbed his fists into his eyes. Dean was reminded sorely of six year old Sam, sitting cross-legged on the bed asking where their dad was. “Well,” said Sam, standing up, “keeping you from chocking on your own vomit, for one.”

“My health and wellbeing isn’t your concern anymore, Sam.” Dean said angrily, watching as Sam picked up his jacket from the end of the bed and started to walk toward the door. “Hey where are you going?” Dean had surged forward and grabbed Sam’s shoulder, forcing him to spin around.

“Home!” Sam said, unnecessarily loud, pulling himself away from his brother.

“Home, huh? Must be nice,” Dean said quietly as he took a cautionary step back.

“Dean,” Sam said softly, stepping away from the door and toward his brother, “you can have it too. You don’t have to do this anymore.” Sam gestured around the room, giving a pointed look to the puddle of sick on the threadbare carpet. “You don’t have to hunt. It doesn’t always have to be us. We deserve to have a life, we deserve to be happy too.”

“Are you happy, Sam?”

Sam looked around the room exasperatedly, as if baffled by Dean’s question. “I can tell you one thing, I wasn’t happy here! I mean, I was happy with you – of course I was – I had my brother back but I wasn’t happy with what our lives were. I never had been, even when we were kids I hated it.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Sam.” Dean stated, taking a seat on the bed furthest from the door.

“I – yeah. Yes I’m happy. I’m happy with Felix.”

“Try telling your face that,” said Dean and Sam made a feeble attempt to arrange his face into a convincing smile. Aware that he was failing, Sam let his face fall back into a frown.

“I should be happy with him.” Sam whispered, walking to Dean and taking a seat next to him on the bed. “But I’m not. I don’t love him Dean, I should, he’s great but he’s not… he’s not you, Dean.” Sam turned and looked at Dean and his brother was looking right back at him. There was no more anger in his eyes, no more betrayal. Sam recognised the look as pity.

“You still don’t –” Sam’s words were cut off by Dean smashing mouth over his in a harsh but passionate kiss. It took Sam several seconds to realise what was happening but when he had, he responded with determined eagerness. Dean wrapped his calloused hand tenderly around Sam’s neck and pushed him gently back against the pillows. “Sam,” Dean breathed, “I – just – want you – to be – happy.” He accentuated each of his words with an open mouthed kiss to Sam’s throat and Sam moaned in reply.

“I’m happy now,” Sam breathed as he stared up at the ceiling, his cock hardening gradually in his jeans as Dean continued the assault on his throat.

Sam could feel Dean’s erection through the layers of material that separated them, it bumped against his own whenever Dean moved his hips slightly and the amount of friction it created was just _not enough._

“Dean take off your pants.”

Dean, who was too interested in the crook behind Sam’s ear, didn’t seem to hear. Sam was getting frustrated, the lack of contact where he needed it most was driving him crazy and Dean’s obliviousness was making it worse. Wasn’t Dean feeling it too? Didn’t he need more as well?

“ _Dean,_ god!” Sam shouted, pushing roughly at his brother’s chest. Dean lifted his head and looked down at Sam with a look of anguish. Sam could almost hear his brother’s heart breaking. “Oh, no, no, no, I don’t mean stop. God, no. Just take your goddamn pants off.” Dean’s brow unfurrowed and his lips quirked up into a smirk. “ _Now!”_

Dean complied immediately, lifting his hips up and fumbling with the buckle of his belt while Sam did the same. Sam had managed to get his jeans off and thrown them onto the floor before Dean had even gotten his fly undone. Sam, still infuriatingly frustrated, knocked Dean’s hands away and set to doing it himself. Dean leant back on his knees and looked down at Sam who was in the process of whipping Dean’s belt out from its loops and throwing it onto the sunlit carpet.

Sam’s face was set; his brow furrowed and lips pursed in a cute little pout. Dean grinned and tapped a finger under his brother’s chin. “Hey,” he said and Sam looked up, “I love you.”

Sam’s face broke out in the goofiest grin that Dean had ever seen, but before Dean could even savour it, Sam had pushed his jeans down his thighs and, getting irritated yet again when they got caught at his knees, surged forward and pulled Dean down onto the bed by the shoulders.

Dean’s cock was rock hard and hot against Sam’s thigh even through the material of both their boxers. He could feel Sam’s against his own thigh and it was heavier and longer than Dean had ever expected from his baby brother. He thrust his hips forward, letting his erection ride through the crook between Sam’s thigh and his own throbbing member, eliciting a guttural moan from the man beneath him.

Dean did it again, experimenting with more pressure and he got a loud gasp as his reward. Sam mimicked him; canting his hips upwards but moving slightly to the left so that their cocks slid together side by side. Dean actually _growled_ , lost all abandon, bent his head to suck Sam’s neck and thrust his hips aggressively against his brothers.

It took less for a minute for the two brothers to spill into their briefs and in the airy silence that followed, there was no animosity or blame or betrayal. There was only love.

“Dean?” Sam broke the silence from where he lay next to his brother.

“Yeah?” Dean breathed back.

“I’m sorry I left. I wish I could take it back because you make me happy, you make me so fucking happy.”

“I’m sorry too, Sammy.”

Sam sat up and looked over at his brother, “for what?” he asked.

“For messing up what you had here.”

Sam sighed and flopped back down on the mattress. “You didn’t mess up anything, Dean.” Sam replied quietly.

“Why? Because there was nothing there to mess up or because you’re going to go back to him and pretend this never happened?” There was resentment in Dean’s voice again and Sam huffed and sat up again, crossing his legs and looking at Dean.

“You think I’d leave again? I’ve been miserable without you Dean. I have spent all this time trying to get you out of my head, why do you think I got with Felix in the first place? I missed you like fucking crazy, why the fuck would I leave again, now?”

Dean sat up too (adjusting himself in the uncomfortable, moist confines of his boxers), leant forward and placed a gentle kiss at the corner of Sam’s mouth. “I fucking love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be continued my friends. xx


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam /tries/ to explain things to Felix.

Sam woke up in a tangle of limbs. He wasn’t sure where he ended and Dean began. He remembered waking up like this many times with Felix; sweaty, sticky and overly hot but it was different with Dean. He had been waiting his whole life for this moment: to be able to wake up encircled in Dean’ arms and his warm breath on his neck.

Sam turned his head and looked out the window. The sun was burning orange low on the horizon and he realised just how tired he must have been to have slept the whole day away. He extracted himself carefully from Dean’s arms and stood up. He picked up his phone from where he left it on the bedside table the previous night, pulled on his coat and jeans, and walked out into the sharp evening air, closing the door quietly behind him.

There was a bench underneath the window and it was just far enough under the eaves to shield Sam from the softly falling snow. He pulled his coat tighter around himself and sat down. He unlocked his phone and wasn’t surprised to see several texts and missed calls from Felix. He couldn’t blame the guy, his sort text the night before wasn’t exactly informative; all it said was _‘had something to take care of. Be home later x’_. It didn’t explain anything and Sam felt bad for putting Felix in such a shitty situation.

Sam read quickly through the text messages and they were all fairly similar: _Sam where are you? When will you be home? Are we still on for lunch? Does this have anything to do with your brother?_

That last one made Sam feel even worse. What was he going to do? His finger hovered over the little green ‘call back’ button while he thought. Sam had never mentioned the nature of his relationship with Dean to Felix, all Felix knew was that they had a falling out and hadn’t spoken to each other for over a year. After a while, Felix learnt not to mention Dean because Sam would get extremely defensive and disappear for hours without an explanation.

So what should Sam do now? Should he tell Felix exactly what his and Dean’s falling out was over all those months ago? Does he tell his kind, caring boyfriend that all the time that they have been together, he has been in love with his brother?

The light on Sam’s phone faded from being inactive for so long and Sam unlocked it again and hit the call button without any hesitation. He had to get this over with.

Felix answered after the second ring. “ _Sam?”_

“Yeah, it’s me. We need to talk.”

“ _Then talk.”_

“No. Not over the phone. Are you at home?”

_“Yeah, the school got a snow day so they didn’t need teachers.”_

“Okay, I’ll be there in about half an hour.”

_“Sam?”_

“Yeah?”

_“I love you.”_

“I know.”

Sam grimaced and hung up before Felix could say anything else. His stomach was clenching and unclenching uncomfortably as he stood up and walked back inside but it eased immediately when he saw Dean sitting on the bed pulling his boots on. He looked up and smiled lovingly at Sam when he walked in and Sam’s heart jumped. This would all be worth it, he just knew it.

“Going somewhere?” Sam asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah, figured we’d get out of dodge before the maid sees that.” Dean nodded his head towards vomit on the floor which had soaked into the carpet, leaving only a dark brown stain on the light blue fabric.

“We?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Dean frowned and paused in the process of tugging at his laces. “You’re coming with me, right?”

“I – Dean I want to, I really do but I can’t. Not yet, I have to talk to Felix. I can’t just leave him high and dry without even explaining why. Plus all my stuff is at our house. Can’t really avoid talking to him even if I wanted to.”

Dean resumed tying his boots and then stood to retrieve a clean shirt from his bag. He pulled it over his head and walked over to Sam, kissed him soft and slow, then pulled back and placed his hands on his chest. “Go,” he said, “I’ll wait.”

* * *

 

The walk back to the house (that’s all it was now) didn’t take much longer than it did the night before. Sam stopped at the front door, unsure whether or not he should knock but he was saved from deciding since the door was opened for him. He saw Felix’s face for a split second but then it was a blur of dark clothing and he was being pulled into a tight hug.

Felix’s hands were in his hair and Sam could tell where this was going but he didn’t have the heart to stop it yet. He let Felix hug him, let him pull and tug at his hair in his desperate state, he let Felix close the door and push him up against it but he didn’t let his lips touch him.

Sam placed his hands firmly on Felix’s chest and pushed gently. Felix got the message instantly and stepped back, looking hurt.

“I’m sorry, Felix.”

Felix knew what was coming, Sam could tell. He could tell by his desperate attempt to distract him, he could tell by his last ditch effort to remind Sam what he would be saying goodbye to.

“So this is it?” Felix asked, taking another step back and leaning against the doorway to the living room with his arms crossed.

“I’m so sorry.” Sam said weakly. It was all he could muster.

“You’re sorry? That’s all you have for me?”

“Felix, there are so many things you don’t understand, I’m not who you think I am. I’m no good for you. You deserve so much better.”

“Did you love me?” There were tears in Felix’s green eyes and more were threatening to spill from Sam’s own hazel ones.

“I – I don’t know. I wanted to. God, Felix, I wanted to love you, I wanted everything you were offering me. I thought if we got our own place I would be able to make it feel like home but no matter how hard I tried I –” Sam broke off as the last words of his sentence died in his throat.

“Is this about Dean?” Felix asked, brushing tears from his cheeks.

Sam stayed silent for a moment, wondering if he should tell the truth. “Yes.” He croaked out, looking down at his feet. He could hear Felix move toward him but he didn’t look up. He couldn’t face what he had done.

A warm hand at his chin tilted his face up and even warmer lips pressed against his. It was a soft, chaste kiss but it was filled with so many unsaid things. Gentle fingers brushed against Sam’s neck and then they were gone and so were those loving lips. Hot tears spilled out over Sam’s cheeks and he tried to say something but the lump in his throat wouldn’t let him.

“You can get your stuff.” Felix said softly and Sam jumped at the opportunity to leave the room and hide his face. He walked into the bedroom, pulled the two duffle bags down from the top of the closet and started shoving his essentials into them: multiple flannels, worn cotton t-shirts, several old pairs of jeans and the handgun he kept in the bedside table that Felix had never asked about. He left the sawed-off where it was tucked into the slats under the bed. When both bags were full, Sam zipped them up and slung them over his shoulders and walked out into the living room where Felix was sitting on the couch with his arms wrapped around his knees. He stood up when Sam entered the room.

“Don’t worry about the rest, you can just throw it out.” Sam said.

“Okay.”

There was a few moments of tense silence and then, deciding he could stand to be there any longer, Sam turned and walked to the front door. He paused with his hand on the door knob, knowing he should probably say something before he left. He turned back around and found Felix leaning against the doorway to the living room again.

“I hope you can be happy, Sam. I really do.”

Sam left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to give Sam and Felix a civil break up. I didnt want Sam to carry the guilt of it around for too long and I hope that the exchange with Felix and the friendly nature of their departure helps him get through it.
> 
> Oh also i really need a beta reader, so if youd like to (it would help me out a lot and id cred you and everything) just leave a comment with your email or something x


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tell me you love me."

As Sam walked back to the motel room, the tears on his cheeks seemed to freeze as the snow started to fall heavier and sun sunk lower and lower behind the distant Colorado mountains. He couldn’t help the fat salty drops that fell from his eyes, this was, after all, a large part of his life that he was walking away from. Although it did make him feel better knowing what he was walking towards.

Dean was lounging on one of the beds watching TV when Sam walked in. He turned it off and sat up when Sam closed the door behind him, shivering slightly at the chill that had followed his brother inside.

“How’d it go?” He asked as Sam shucked off his coat and kicked off his boots. His little brother walked over to him without saying anything and pushed him hard in the chest so he fell back onto the bed. The look in Sam’s eyes made him shiver again, and this time it had nothing to do with the temperature. His baby brother crawled over him, straddled his thighs and ran his hands worshipfully over his cotton clad chest. Sam plucked at the t-shirt, urging him to take it off and Dean complied.

Sam sat back and raked his eyes over the tanned flesh in front of him. Dean couldn’t supress the blush that rose up his neck and coloured his cheeks. Sam sat back further and pulled Dean with him by the shoulders until Dean was sitting with his feet on the floor and Sam was on his lap with his long legs wrapped around his waist.

Dean looked up into his brother’s face. He could tell that he had been crying and he didn’t have to ask why. There were flakes of snow in his chestnut hair and his cheeks had flushed pink from the biting air outside. Dean put his hands on either side of Sam’s face and pulled him down gently. Their lips met softly and Sam wasted no time in deepening the kiss. Dean didn’t object; he let his hands glide through the soft locks of chocolate coloured hair and gripped it tightly as Sam nipped and bit at his lower lip. Sam groaned into his mouth at the added pressure on his scalp but Dean released it.

Sam grunted at the loss but that didn’t deter him from the assault on his brother’s mouth. His hands pulled and scratched at Dean’s neck but Dean wasn’t interested in being as aggressive as his sibling. He knew that that wasn’t what Sam needed and even if it was, he wasn’t going to take advantage of his brother when he was evidently rattled by what happened with Felix. Dean was happy to sit back and let Sam work out his frustration on his lips and he wasn’t going to push Sam to talk about what happened if he didn’t want to.

Sam suddenly pulled back. His lips were red and slightly swollen and there was a look of burning lust in his eyes. “Dean,” he said, “tell me you love me.”

“What?” Dean asked, surprised.

“Tell me you love me.”

Dean placed his hands on either side of Sam’s face again and looked directly into his brother’s eyes. “I love you, Sammy,” he said, “I have loved you since the first time I saw you. From the moment I held you in my arms when I was four years old, I have loved you. Don’t you ever doubt that.”

Tears welled up in Sam’s eyes for what Dean assumed wasn’t the first time that night. Sam leant forward, resting his forehead on Dean’s. Dean felt his brother’s legs tighten around his waist and his hands slide around his neck.

They stayed like that for a long time; foreheads touching and breathing in each other’s air, Dean pressing a soft kiss to Sam’s lips every so often. He whispered loving words into the silence and they seemed to get trapped, suspended in the space between their faces.

After another couple of minutes Sam spoke, “tell me again.”

“I love you.” Dean whispered back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a short little chapter i busted out while i sit here and listen to sad music. Will be continued :)
> 
> (Amended: I have decided to end the story here at chapter 7)

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: http://fidelius-charms.tumblr.com/  
> instagram: a.v.a.l.o.n


End file.
